


One of a Kind

by Mischieffoal



Category: Artemis Fowl - Eoin Colfer, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-19
Updated: 2013-01-19
Packaged: 2017-11-26 01:36:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/645081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mischieffoal/pseuds/Mischieffoal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sherlock Holmes and John Watson adopt a baby boy, they coud never have guessed what trouble he would bring to 221B...</p>
<p>Set after a long time after The Reichenbach Fall and The Last Guardian.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_**Chapter One** _

 

_**21** _ _**st** _ _**September, 2015** _

Sherlock snuggled up on the sofa, as close as he could get to John. “You’re sure about it? Adoption?”

“Of course I am.” He whispered back into his partner of three months curly, black hair.

“Good.” He sighed contentedly, then continued, “I’ve already sorted out the paperwork.”

“Sherlock…” John moaned.

“Shhh… I knew you’d agree, so I thought I might as well get the horrid bit out of the way.”

John hesitated, then hugged Sherlock tighter.

 

_**22** _ _**nd** _ _**September, 2015** _

John cradled a tiny baby boy in his arms, whilst a nurse hovered nearby. “His mother named him Artemis before she died. After his father, his grandfather and one of her friends… Artemis Julius Fowl the Third – she made him sound right posh!” She smiled at the boy, “She was a funny little thing. She looked about thirty, but she was only about so high.” She indicated a height of about three feet. 

Sherlock came up behind John and put his arms around him and the baby. “They’ll be glad to see the back of Artemis.” He whispered in his partner’s ear, “As well as his mother dying from an unknown weapon, he’s been here for six months already.”

“Six months! But he looks so young?” John looked very confused.

“I know…” Sherlock gently kissed the top of his head.

 

_**24** _ _**th** _ _**September, 2024** _

John stopped outside his old bedroom door. The person who now occupied it had installed a high-tech finger print scanner on the outside wall, and even if your prints did match up, you had to weigh precisely Artemis’ weightfor the door to open. He sighed for the umpteenth time as his eyes were drawn towards it. “Arty? As it’s your adoption day, might you consider coming and talking to us?” There was no reply, “Jim will be coming in a bit…” 

There was a pause. “James is coming?… I’ll be there in three point seven minutes.” A rare smile plastered itself across the boy behind the door’s face as he raced to shut and lock up his five computer monitors. He couldn’t remember the last time James, his absolute idol, had even been allowed inside 221 Baker Street, let alone talk to _**him**_. He twisted the door handle to leave his room, then turned sharply and walked towards the mirror. The boy reflected in it had one brown eye and one blue, was pale, thin, very short - for a nine-year-old - and had oddly pointed ears. He was dressed smartly in a tailored suit (age six), as though he was going to an evening party in the messy sitting room of 221b. He reached up to the top left (he preferred his left hand) corner of mirror. He felt behind the glass front and pressed the tiny print pad that was hidden there. It whirred as it scanned his thumb, clicked quietly and then opened. He stood on his toes as he placed his hand inside and pulled it out again with something small and rectangular inside. He pocketed it as he pushed the tiny safe door shut again. It felt warm and, he liked to think, dangerous, to the touch.

 

Artemis Fowl the Third walked into his ninth adoption day party like someone who would one day rule the world – or perhaps already did. He walked like that for two more steps, then stopped abruptly as he spotted the massive man standing in the far corner. The giant stepped forward to introduce himself. “Mr. Fowl. My name is Butler.” Artemis frowned as Butler held out his huge hand to him – he had been legally adopted and although he liked to call _**himself**_ Fowl, his name was Artemis Hamish Julius Holmes. The man moved away as-

“Arty!” Mrs. Hudson, their landlady, pulled him into a massive hug, which he wormed his way out of as soon as possible. Through the woman’s arms he noticed Butler melt back into the shadows. He shuddered irrationally, then pushed all thoughts of the giant man to the back of his mind, to be replaced by many new ones about his party.

 

John stood in the corner of the room and smiled at the scene before him. He loved times like this, when Artemis was almost like a normal boy. Sherlock came up behind him and wrapped his arms around him. “Can you believe it’s been nine years?” He murmured as they watched their adopted son talking excitedly to his Uncle Mycroft about the new computer programme he was working on.

“Yeah, nine years ago he seemed such an adorable little child!” John joked, “I didn’t really think it was possible to love someone for that long… excluding you.” 

“I hope inviting Jim wasn’t a bad idea… I know Arty likes him – well, perhaps adores is a better choice of word. Still… inviting the man that threatened to shoot you, Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade if I didn’t jump off a building does seem a bit reckless for you.” 

John sighed. “We’ve had this argument so many times, Sherlock. For god’s sake, you and Moriarty actually get on quite well! You know he wouldn’t _**hurt**_ Arty, not with a Butler here.”

Sherlock frowned at the mention of the huge man’s name. Neither of them had liked the notion of having a Butler in the house, but he had been asking for years to see their son. It was the Butler family’s only purpose in life – to protect the Fowls. “I just hope Arty doesn’t suddenly decide that he needs a bodyguard.”

 

At ten o’clock precisely, the doorbell rang and James Moriarty walked in. As an awkward silence descended on the room, Artemis ran straight for him and leapt into his arms. “Now’s the time I’m meant to say ‘oh you’ve grown’, but you haven’t at all, so I won’t!” His Irish accent made Mycroft shiver as he remembered previous experiences with the man, “Why, thank you, little elf!” Moriarty whispered in Artemis’s ear, as he pocketed the memory stick he had just been given. After that, things took on the feel of a family dinner, petty enemies and feuds abounding.

 

“Well.” John concluded when only James was left, “Well, now I don’t just have to imagine the family dinners!”

Sherlock laughed as he gathered up the remaining food, “God, that was a long time ago… when even was that?”

“Just after I shot that cabby.” John replied, stacking glasses with the help of Jim. 

“You shot a cabby?!” Asked Artemis incredulously, finally distracted from the Kinnex set he’d received from Molly Hooper that afternoon.

“He was about to kill me.” Sherlock offered by way of explanation.

“No, Sherlock,” Jim retorted, smirking, “ _ **You**_ were about to kill yourself!” Sherlock blinked, then walked out of the room with an armful of plates.

“Great, thanks Jim, now he’s sulking.” John sighed then went back to clearing up. 

“It’s true though!” Jim handed John another lot of glasses.

“Are you two ever going to grow up?” John snapped, something that was quite rare. 

“I doubt it.” Artemis answered dryly from amongst a mass of Kinnex structures.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter Two** _

 

_**22** _ _**nd** _ _**January, 2026** _

“He’s leaving the house.” A female voice came through his earpiece, “He’ll be around the corner in twenty two seconds, so if you’re hiding, get on with it.” 

“I’m not hiding.” Butler replied quietly, “I’m going to talk to him.”

The girl on the other end of the connection sighed. “The Holmeses are adamant that you don’t.” 

“And I’m adamant that I do.” He cut off the conversation. The eleven-year-old Artemis Fowl the Third walked around down the street towards him. Butler stepped in front of him, “Mr. Fowl.”

The eleven-year-old jumped with recognition from over two years ago, “My name is Holmes.” He said coldly, then pushed past him and walked on.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Butler asked, in front of Artemis again. 

“What does it matter to you?” He snapped. He strode past him again. Butler frowned, but wasn’t put off.

 

Ten minutes later, Artemis had stopped in a dark alley. “Why are you following me, Butler? And before you say anything stupid like ‘I’m not’, look around you. Especially on the rooftops.”

He obeyed and regretted it. Well, it ran in the family, he supposed. He put his hands above his head in surrender to the ten snipers on the buildings surrounding the alley. “That’s why I’m following you… when there are guns, people get hurt. People die.”

“That’s what people do.” Answered his quarry. It freaked him a little – talking to a child the size of an eight-year-old about armed warfare.

“I know. I’m just saying that with the people you’re dealing with, some day it will be you.”

“I’m aware of that.” The child was a bit confused about this giant of a man.

“Good. The way you’re going, that day could very well be tomorrow…” Butler had never been trained to force someone to get a bodyguard.

“Well. What are you going to do about it?” The pointy eared boy asked. 

“I’m going to ask you if you would consider employing a bodyguard.”

“Well, go on then, I’m listening.” He said, with all the annoying sarcastic ability of a particularly angry fairy. Having been present when his little cousin Juliet had told him all about the Lower Elements without permission from the Lower Elements Police, Butler knew exactly what that was like. 

“Good. I don’t charge, because our families are connected by a pact that means that I am your bodyguard, whether you like it or not. Clear?”

“Perfectly. Shall we get on, then?”

 

Two hours of dealing with not very nice people later, Artemis and Butler stood on the corner of Baker Street. “My fathers won’t appreciate your presence. I don’t want you to accompany me any further today.” The child informed his employee.

“I’ll agree to that only if you take this with you and press the call button when you need me.” Butler handed Artemis a minuscule, glowing and blue object. 

“And which one would that be?” The boy asked, staring at the minute runes engraved on the device.

“D’Avrit! I’m giving you a crash course in Gnommish tomorrow. And it’s that one.” The bodyguard replied, pointing at a triangular button.

“Gnommish? Is that the language of the runes?”

“Yes. It’s the language of the Lower Elements. I think you know who and what I am talking about – or you’ve guessed.” With that, the massive man turned away and prepared himself for the onslaught of Gnommish criticism and abuse that was sure to be coming for him through his earpiece any moment now.

 

Artemis rushed into 221b and ran straight for his room and computers. “Hi Arty.” John called from behind a newspaper. 

“Hey Dad!” He shouted back. “Where’s Sherlock?” He asked suddenly.

“Umm… Scotland Yard, I think. New case. Something to do with gold.”

“Oh… okay.” He ran back through the flat, hyperventilating. It wasn’t okay, it really wasn’t. Artemis knew exactly what this case was about. Exactly, because he was behind it all. This was bad, very bad. He shut his bedroom door after him and breathed out slowly. It had started two years ago, with the memory stick he had given James, and it had grown massively since then. But the scale of the crime didn’t matter to his father, because Sherlock Holmes solved everything – no one got away with it once he was on their case.

 

It was to do with gold, lots of gold… lots of fairy gold. He knew exactly who and what Butler had been talking about – he could even read Gnommish, which wasn’t something an everyday eleven-year-old human could do. He logged onto his second computer, the machine that was dedicated to finding out about his parents. Not that he didn’t love his adopted fathers; John had been the one to suggest that he look for his blood parents. He flicked through the files on the desktop, searching for the one he knew had been there yesterday… It wasn’t there. Someone had actually broken into his password-protected computer in his identity-protected bedroom and deleted it! He fumed and speculated on why someone would want to, but it didn’t really matter – the file had contained a language and an alphabet he had known and spoken from birth – Gnommish, the language of the People. He sighed, then reached across to the third monitor and fired up the Internet. When his email home page had loaded he typed a question to James Moriarty. It was concerning his missing file and it wasn’t very polite. 

 

Sherlock Holmes sat down and waited. He kicked his legs onto Lestrade’s desk and waited some more. About a quarter of an hour later the Detective Inspector walked in and jumped when he noticed his uninvited guest, “I’m guessing you’re taking the case, then.”

“Yes. I need permission to enter Stonehenge, right up to the stone.” Sherlock fiddled with Lestrade’s pencil sharpener. 

“Stonehenge?!”

“Yes. I wish to visit the ancient pizza parlour.” He explained. Lestrade opened his mouth to argue, then realised he couldn’t be bothered, because there was never any point arguing with a Holmes.

 

Artemis whiled away the time waiting for Moriarty’s reply by refreshing his Gnommish and reading all the display options on the communicator Butler had given him… The _**fairy**_ communicator, he reminded himself. How could he speak the beautiful language of the People? It wasn’t like he‘d learnt it at the time he’d learnt English (there hadn’t been any elves around to listen to), but when he had learnt his home country’s speech, he had suddenly known another, much more fantastic language. He also wondered how and _**why**_ Butler was in league with the fairies. Why would they let on ordinary human in on their secret? 

 

He looked back at his second computer, only to discover that the file he had been looking for wasn’t there. He had been hoodwinked _**again**_! It had definitely still been there five minutes ago, because he remembered telling himself to look at it later. He stood up to check his security devices, but not a thing seemed out of place. He fired up the CCTV footage that was stored on his laptop and rewound the film back by thirty minutes. The room in the video was empty and dark, with nothing out of place. He sped up the tape a little and watched himself enter the room and switch on the lights. Still nothing was out of place. He moved closer to the screen as the recorded version of himself sat down and logged onto his computer, with _**still**_ nothing out of place. Artemis waited for the camera to show the footage of him leaning across to his third computer, but it never came. He smiled, zoomed in and slowed the footage down. He watched closely, then… “Got you!” He whispered happily, “Clever. A loop. Clever, but not undetectable.” This he said to the room in general. When there was no reply, he didn’t become disheartened, but continued, “If that is all the LEP have monitoring me, I would be very surprised, so I’m not going to do anything silly.” Even as he gave his promise, he pressed an oval button on the side of the communicator and all hell broke loose. An elf swore loudly and shimmered into visibility above the small boy’s head as the communicator jammed all the Lower Elemental instruments. He plummeted from human eye lever and dropped his Neutrino Stun Gun in shock when his wings stopped moving. An alarmed and rather podgy centaur wearing a tin foil hat materialised on the chair of the fifth computer and whinnied in amazement. 

“D’Avrit!” The tiny fairy on the floor picked up his newest edition gun and pointed it at the boy’s head.

“I wouldn’t bother with that, it won’t work, will it?” He spoke in Gnommish, purely to irritate the elf even more. The fairy turned to glare at the centaur, who just shrugged apologetically. He groaned, then let the gun fall from his hands. As he did, the door burst open and an angry Butler stormed in. 

“I thought I told you to call me when you needed me? And don’t say you didn’t need me, because you did.” A _**really**_ angry John stormed in behind him and shouted.

“What the _**hell**_ is going on?!” Then he saw the fat man with a horse’s body and the tiny male with pointed ears who was aiming a sort of gun at him. The metre high man tightened his trigger finger…

 


	3. Chapter 3

_**Chapter Three** _

 

_**24** _ _**th** _ _**January, 2026** _

John woke up to find himself on the floor of a cold, unfamiliar room. He then noticed that he was handcuffed. He tried to sit up and found, to his relief, that at least he wasn’t drugged. He heard a familiar voice coming from behind him, “Nice of you to join me.”

John turned around to see a disgruntled Sherlock sitting against the wall. “What the hell…? Is Arty OK?” It occurred to him that eleven years ago he would have said, ‘Are _**you**_ OK’, but becoming a father had changed that.

“I presume so. Even though they are probably so annoyed with him that they could kill him, they don’t like harming their own.” It sounded like Sherlock didn’t much like these people.

“Their own? Who are they and how is Arty one of them?” John didn’t add ‘and how did you know’, because after living with Sherlock for fourteen years he had realised that he knew everything and that there was no point in asking how.

John’s partner sighed, then spoke quietly, “They are the Lower Elements Police and although Arty hasn’t realised yet, he is the child of one of their late officers.”

John choked. “You knew who his parents were and you didn’t tell me?!” 

Sherlock got up, walked over to John and kissed him briefly, “Of course not. I only found out myself just now.”

“Err…” John began awkwardly, “How long have I been out?” 

“About two days. Are you feeling OK?” 

“Two days! What the hell did they shoot me with?”

“Probably a Neutrino gun on high stun setting. Yes,” Sherlock lifted John’s arm gently and pointed to a large burn mark, “There’s the evidence.” 

John winced as he noticed the bruise for the first time. He didn’t have a clue what a “neutrino” gun was, but he was going to make goddam sure he was never on the wrong end of one again. “Are you _**sure**_ he’s all right?” He couldn’t stand not knowing how his son was.

Sherlock hesitated. “… Almost sure.”

 

Artemis, and therefore Butler, was actually worse off than his fathers, as the fairies had _**not**_ succeeded in capturing them and now they were on the run. Being on the run from fairies, as it happens, isn’t the easiest thing in the world – fairies are faster, have better weaponry and are more experienced than the average human. Fortunately, Butler wasn’t the average human and Artemis wasn’t even the same species as Mr. Average – but he wasn’t quite sure of that yet. Right now, they were at the end of a rocky path in Germany, watching an outstanding torrent of water pound down into the earth next to them. “The Reichenbach Falls… my father once rediscovered a painting of them…” Artemis was transfixed by the absolute power that Nature had given this place.

“Excuse me, sir, but I don’t really think we have time to marvel at an upright river.” Butler had got uncomfortable as soon as they stopped moving, and was extremely anxious to get going again.

“Wait.” His small charge held up a finger and walked nearer to the edge of the chasm. He looked down and shivered with horror and delight.

“Master Holmes!” 

“Well?” Artemis turned back towards his bodyguard and smiled “Are you coming?” He stepped quite far back from the edge of path, reached behind him to his backpack and got hold of the starter cord on the set of Hummingbirds Butler had stolen from the LEP a few months back. He then ran as fast as his spindly legs would carry him towards the waterfall and fired up the engine at the last second. At first it looked like he would plummet into the Falls, but then the wings spread and lifted him until he was level with the path again and he could see Butler’s dumbstruck expression from the ground. Arty laughed loudly, then spoke into his communicator, “Well, are you?”

“Where exactly are you planning to go?” Butler replied through gritted teeth as he rummaged around in his kit for the modified wings Foaly had made for him last month.

“Where do you think? In there!” Artemis pointed straight towards—

“ARE YOU INSANE?!” Butler shouted so loudly that Arty could have heard him without the communicator, even over the half-human cries of the Falls. Butler shoved everything back in his rucksack and forced his wings into life as he charged, then flew, towards his employer.

  
  


One very wet minute later, a very bruised Artemis and Butler burst through the incredible torrent of ice cold water to find themselves in the mouth of an oddly dry and glowing tunnel cut into the rock underneath the surface. “D’Avrit!” Butler turned towards his master and was extremely surprised to see tiny blue sparks playing over his bruised head. “Three questions. What is this place, how the hell did you know it existed and how come you’ve got magic at your fingertips?”

Artemis jumped. “Magic?” He looked down at his hands and looked up again at Butler, confused.

Butler sighed, then walked over to his charge and tapped the small boy’s head. When Butler took his hand away, some of the sparks came with it and started to heal the cuts on his arms. “Yes, magic.”

“But… I’m human! I can’t have magic!” 

Butler shook his head and laughed. “You still think you’re human! Come on, Master Holmes, surely you’ve realised?!”

Artemis sat down suddenly and put his head in his hands, then glanced up at his bodyguard through his fingers and the blue sparks that surrounded them. “I’m… one of them, aren’t I? I’m… an elf. A fairy. One of the People.” 

Butler squatted down in front of his employer and took the boy’s fragile hands in his massive ones. “You aren’t a fairy, you aren’t a human. You’re unique – a hybrid. Half elf, half human. That’s why you’ve got magic and pointy ears, as well as being quite tall and with human reflexes.” He was whispering now, as the huge man’s instincts told him not to trust this empty, glowing cave. “Are you alright?”

“I… think so. But I’ve never used magic before, that’s never happened to me before – why now?” The human-elf tried to stand up, but his legs gave way and he slumped down against the cave wall again.

“Because this cave does that to people.” The voice came from the shadows towards the back of the tunnel. “It shows them their true power, like all of our caves.” The voice came towards them and appeared in the form of a rather large and ugly dwarf. “Mulch’s the name, theiving’s the game. Pleased to finally meet you, Mister Fowl, but we actually don’t have the time.”

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

_**Chapter Four** _

 

A crucial difference between Artemis Hamish Julius Holmes and his biological father was that the younger actually kept himself fit, and liked doing so. Therefore, jogging down a tunnel towards who-knows-where in time for who-knows-what didn’t leave the eleven and a half year old breathless, as it would have for his namesake. Butler couldn’t count the amount of things about this situation that the Swiss training academy had drummed into him that _you never let a client into_. Oh well. Eventually they slowed down and the dwarf turned to them as they walked. “As I said, I’m Mulch, Mulch Diggums. And now I can add to my record – first fairy to meet Artemis Fowl the Third!”

The boy glowered. “My name is _**Holmes**_. How do you know it? You didn’t explain that in your email.”

-

Sherlock tried to stop launching into full-scale deduction mode - this was their son, after all. “Last week, Arty received an email from an anonymous sender. They said—”

John interrupted. “You monitor his emails? I’m aware I’m rather lax on the password front, but Arty…” He let it hang, no need to explain further.

“We are talking about me, here.” John couldn’t tell if his partner was joking – somehow, he doubted it. “The sender said that he had important information concerning Arty’s heritage if he would meet the sender in Germany, behind the Reichenbach Falls.”

-

“That’s how I knew there was a cave here.” Artemis explained to a slightly less confused Butler. 

“You just trusted an anonymous email?”

“Of course not, what do you take him for, a human?” Mulch didn’t apologise to Butler, the only human present.

“I traced the sender to here. In fact—” Artemis hesitated, then pointed to a portion of wall that looked exactly the same as any other. “I was from right there.”

-

“And also, he had the Butler.”

John started. A Butler was with him? But… oh! “I’m guessing that he was the person I saw the back of in Arty’s room?”

“I expect so.” Sherlock looked around pointlessly. “I wonder where he is?”

“You expect so? Didn’t you see him for yourself?”

Sherlock shook his head. “No, I was in Stonehenge when they took me down.”

“You were in Stonehenge?”

“Yes. Wasn’t that what I just said? Anyway, the sender didn’t say how to get under the Falls, but I expect they’ve worked it out…” Sherlock trailed off.

“They’re not here, are they?” John murmured. 

“I very highly doubt it.”

-

Mulch headbutted the section of wall that Artemis had pointed at and it crumbled away instantly. Inside a crowd of dwarfs, all turned to face them. “Ladies and gents, I give you Artemis Fowl the Third!” Butler nearly threw himself onto his principal to protect him from sounded like a herd of stampeding buffalo, but stopped when he realised that it was just the sound of every single dwarf in the room getting to their hairy feet and cheering. Artemis blushed a deep red, which made Mulch guffaw with laughter as it was the most un-Artemis II-like thing he could have done. 

“I didn’t come here to be congratulated, especially for I reason I don’t know.” Artemis hissed through his teeth in Mulch’s direction. 

The dwarf raised his eyebrows. “Don’t know? Come now, Master Fowl—”

“Holmes.” Artemis and Butler corrected as one. 

“Whatever.” Diggums brushed the thought aside like a beetle on his beard. “It’s because of the gold.”

-

“Well then, where are they?”

“Northern Germany.” Sherlock strode up and down the room, usually doing something pointless. 

From that stupid answer, John tried another tack. “Right then, why were you in Stonehenge?”

“I needed to visit the ancient pizza parlour.”

John didn't even bother to think about that. “Why?”

“I needed to get the attention of the LEP.”

John frowned, “You were trying to get the attention of the people who've imprisoned us.”

“Yes. Is your hearing all right?”

John ignored that comment. “Well, you succeeded.”

-

 

“I'm being viewed as a hero because I've stolen some of the People's gold?” Artemis shook his head in bewilderment. “I personally don't see how that works.”

Mulch sighed. “It's like this. That was _our_ gold, but when the mudmen got hold of it, we thought we'd lost it forever. Every single dwarf in this cave has attempted to … _reclaim..._ it, but evidently none of us succeeded.” Then Mulch patted Artemis on the back, causing the boy to nearly fall over from the sheer force of it. “And then there's you!”

“That's something else I'm interested in. How do you know I have stolen so much as a sweet?”

Mulch looked at the young Holmes as though he was an idiot. “Well, it's in your blood, ain't it? I can smell a Fowl job from the other side of the world.” 

Artemis blinked. His parents had been on the wrong side of the law as well? “That’s what I came here to find out. My heritage.”

-

“Did you want to get incarcerated?” John continued. 

“That wasn't part of the original plan, but it's not too devastating. Don't you want to know who Arty's family were?”

John grabbed Sherlock’s arms and pulled him into a sitting position beside him. “Of course I do, I thought you were procrastinating.”

-

“Right. Yes. Your family.” Mulch waved Artemis towards a chair. He glanced up at Butler's gigantic frame, “Sorry, big fella, but we can't really have any more chairs broken.” Butler nodded and squatted down in a corner, “Your father was a bloomin' fantastic, well, genius! The best kind, a criminal one.” He laughed with the rest of the room. “Until he met your mother, that is. Troublesome elf!”

-

“Artemis Fowl the Second. He stole the elusive 'Fairy Thief', sold the pyramids, managed to obtain some fairy gold and created the cure for global warming. All before he was sixteen.”

John raised an eyebrow. “Fairy gold?”

-

“And then there's your mother. Polar opposite. Commander Holly Short, of the LEPrecon unit.” A grumble ran through the cave, hushed by angry pro-Hollyists. “As you can see, mixed feelings about the elf. She's incarcerated every one of us, but she's earned back some of our friendship by her adventurous escapades for the good of the People.”

-

“His mother was an _elf_? Leprechaun unit? Fairy gold? What the hell?!”

“Yes, fairies are real. It's not that difficult to grasp, is it?” Sherlock sprang up and started pacing again. 

“Sherlock, _calm down._ ” John stood up and grabbed his partner by the shoulders. “He's going to be fine.”

Sherlock’s wildly jumping eyes settled desperately on John's own. “But will you?”


End file.
